


Put It On Shuffle

by Voiid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Coming Out, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), like it's already implied but there's a scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8835154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voiid/pseuds/Voiid
Summary: Lance is a barista. Keith just wants coffee. When Keith accidentally leaves his phone, he unintentionally attracts Lance's attention with his music choice. And so begins the soundtrack of their lives.Or, the Voltron kind-of musical no one asked for.





	1. Press Play

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is basically me picking songs from my library and writing chapters to go with them lmao. Those start with chapter 2 though so I can get the intro going sooo here we go
> 
> (can I also mention I'm new to this so be gentle)

The bell above the front door chimed a high, sweet note as a customer walked in. The coffee shop hadn’t had much business, surprisingly, so Lance actually jumped at having something to do. He quickly stood up from organizing the shelves in the stock room and brushed off his apron. Still fiddling with his apron, he walked to the counter, grabbed his marker and looked up at the waiting customer.

“Hi, there! What can I get started for—“ he began. In the two second glance he got at the boy standing in front of him, he malfunctioned. “—you.”

The boy was fiddling with his phone and, thankfully, didn’t notice Lance. He was bundled up in a black coat and a thick red scarf to combat the bitter winter air. Dark hair spilled out from under his matching black beanie, nearly hiding the headphone cords trailing from his ears to the phone in his hands. Lance noticed the boy’s fingers typing away rapidly on the screen. His hands were gloved, but the gloves didn’t have fingers. _That’s weird_ , Lance thought. 

The boy seemed to remember where he was and what was expected to happen at a place of service, because he paused his typing, blinked twice and said, “Sorry, what?” He quickly pressed pause on his phone and removed his headphones.

Lance, grateful for a second chance, repeated with a slight laugh, “What can I get you?” He held a cup in one hand and his marker in the other, ready to take the boy’s name and start his drink. 

“A triple shot latte, please,” he said, looking slightly down and to the left of Lance’s face. He looked a bit uncomfortable, as if he was afraid Lance was going to judge his every decision. 

“A triple shot, huh?” Lance asked. “Must be a rough day.” He smiled as he wrote the abbreviated order on the cup and waited for some reaction from the boy. When the boy just stared awkwardly and didn’t respond, Lance made a short coughing noise and quickly added, “Can I get your name?”

Although there was no one else in the shop at the moment, Lance wanted to put a name to the face of the awkward boy in front of him. He doesn’t like to make people feel uncomfortable, and he tries to defuse tense situations with humor. It’s always easier when someone has a name in situations like these. 

The boy seemed to pick up on the fact that he was the only customer in the shop, but he responded anyway. “Keith,” he said. “My name’s Keith.” He still looked in any direction but at Lance.

Lance whispered along slowly as he wrote Keith’s name on the cup. Keith handed over some cash so Lance could total out the order. “Alrighty, Keith. I’ll have it ready in a few minutes,” he told him with a warm smile. Keith finally looked at Lance, responding to his name, and slowly processed what Lance had said. He gave a short nod, what appeared to be a twitch of a polite smile, and turned to take a seat at the nearest table. 

Lance took the cup he prepared and began brewing Keith’s latte. _Triple shot_ , Lance thought. _Of course it’s been a long day, you moron._ He assumed that Keith was a student, too, and needed the caffeine for finals week. The exams didn’t begin until the next week, but everyone was in full study mode… Well, almost everyone. Lance decided to pick up some shifts instead of cracking down so he could have some extra money for Christmas.

Lance could hear some music coming from Keith's direction. Keith had his headphones wrapped across his neck to rest on his left shoulder. It was loud enough for Lance to hear the melody over the brewer, but not loud enough to hear the words. The brewer beeped, alerting Lance that the drink was done, and he filled the cup nearly to the brim. He popped on a lid, slid on a cardboard sleeve, and went back to the counter. Keith was focused on his phone again and started a little when Lance said, “One triple shot latte for Keith, ready to go.” He leaned on the counter as Keith walked up to take his cup.

“Finally, something hot,” Keith muttered almost absently. He clasped his hands around the cup and held it close, letting the warmth spread across his gloved hands, and brought it to rest against his lips. 

“Well thank you, but wait until you try the coffee,” Lance said smoothly. He couldn’t resist flirting; it was in his nature. As smooth as it was, though, he could practically see it hit a bump and fly over Keith’s head. He watched as Keith paused in his heat-relishing moment and looked up, eyebrows furrowed and confusion clear across his face. 

“W-what?” he stammered slowly. 

_Oh no, he’s cute,_ Lance thought. _Quick, change the subject._ He noticed Keith had set his phone on the counter when he picked up his coffee, the screen still lit and showing a messaging screen. “So how can you text with those gloves if they don't have fingers. Don’t your fingers get too cold to move?” He hoped his casual question was enough to distract from the nervous crack in his voice.

“How do you text with your gloves if they have fingers?” Keith fired back. “Aren't they too bulky and block the touch?” His deadpan response was so quick and effortless that it almost seemed natural. He appeared as if he realized what he just said and retreated a little. He glanced back at Lance with an apologetic look, but before he could say anything, Lance laughed.

Lance’s laugh rang throughout the empty shop, light and cheery. Keith relaxed, settled by the fact that Lance wasn’t offended, and distracted himself by taking sips of his coffee. _Is he blushing?_ Lance noticed large splotches of red spreading across Keith’s cheeks and up to his ears. When Lanced stopped laughing, an awkward silence filled the room. He stared at Keith with a hint of his smile still present. 

“Well, uh…” Keith began. He glanced briefly at Lance once again, gave a nervous smile, and turned to leave. “Thanks for the coffee… _Lance_.” As his hands grabbed onto the door, Lance called, “How did you know my name?”

Keith looked back with a smirk and a small chuckle. He shook his head and continued out the door. Lance leaned back across the counter and rested his chin in his hands as he watched Keith drift out of sight. He was now very glad that business was slow, because he stood in that spot for far too long replaying that short amount of time. 

A buzzing noise snapped him back to his senses. It was more like a rattling noise, a vibration. He looked around him, trying to find the direction the sound was coming from, until he leaned further over the counter. On the ledge just below, where the card reader sat, was a phone vibrating with multiple text messages. _He left his phone,_ Lance realized. The messages on the screen were hidden, but the contact name wasn’t. What kind of name is Pidge?

Suddenly Lance’s manager walked through the stockroom doors. “Lance, you know you’re not allowed a phone while on-the-clock,” she mockingly scolded in her most posh accent. She liked to tease Lance about the rules without actually reprimanding him. They had a playful work relationship. It kept the mood light, especially during stressful shifts.

He only barely paid any attention. He was too focused on Keith’s phone, hoping he would come back so Lance would get another chance to speak to him. “Sorry, Allura. A customer left it on the counter.” He absently twirled it in his hand once, twice, until he turned to face his manager. “Is it okay if I keep it by the register in case he comes back?”

Allura raised an eyebrow and smiled. She was usually very by-the-book when it came to policies, but she was also nice enough to cut some corners every now and then. It also helped that she could read Lance like a book by this point, so she let out one short laugh and said, “You know it should go in lost-and-found, but he might come back before we close.” She winked at him. “Just don’t go snooping through it.”

She walked out into the lobby to start cleaning the tables. Lance went back to staring at the phone. Keith’s phone. His headphones were still attached. The screen went dark again, and in it, Lance saw his reflection staring back. He was immediately hit with sudden realization. 

Pinned to the strap of his apron was his name tag. 

"I feel stupid," he thought out loud. He clicked the lock button to light up the screen again and saw the music controls just above the messages still waiting to be read. "Huh." He got an idea. Allura glanced over her shoulder and snorted.

"Just press play, Lance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keith how can you forget your phone AND your headphones.


	2. Black Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura gives some advice and it's called Black Magic. Lance is confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH. Okay, so I don't know how coffee works. This chapter's song is Black Magic by Little Mix. Bonus points if you can spot the references (they aren't subtle).

“I’m telling you Hunk, he’s such a cheese.”

Lance was still going through Keith’s music as well as he was able. He couldn’t unlock the phone because of the passcode, so the voice commands were all he had. _Play music._ A random song would play. _Skip this song._ Another song would play. _Repeat._ The song would play again. Lance had noted which songs seemed to fit Keith’s look and which songs seemed to fit his personality. Considering he was snooping through the music library of a stranger, it was tough work. He determined that there was some gray area in the look-to-personality ratio.

“If you had seen him,” Lance continued his rambling, “you would understand the My Chemical Romance.” Lance hit the pause button on the lock screen once again to look up at his best friend. He recalled the boy's long dark hair, his fingerless gloves, and his black apparel. “But the _Spice Girls?_ ” He held his right hand up to his temple in a fist, then mimicked an explosion in a “mind blown” fashion. 

“First, who doesn’t like the Spice Girls?” Hunk said in between bites of his cake. He was sitting across from Lance at a small table in the corner of the coffee shop. His large frame was hunched forward, his elbows leaning on the table with a slice of cake in his hands. He usually always met Lance during his and Lance’s lunch break because Alfor’s had some of the best sandwiches and pastries. This time, though, he was mainly there to catch a glimpse at the phone Lance hadn’t shut up about. “Second, you said he seemed like a nervous person,” Hunk went on. “Maybe he’s a multi-flavored cheese.”

Lance pursed his lips as he considered Hunk’s point. Lance had barely put the phone down the day before, even after Allura told him not to obsess over it. “If you wear down the battery he might not be able to find it again,” she had said. True, Lance had thought about Keith using the GPS tracker built into the phone, but he couldn’t help but go through every song anyway. “And don’t even think about taking it home.” 

He couldn’t argue with his boss, so he had to leave the phone in the shop’s safe overnight. Luckily, Lance worked again the next morning, so he brought his own phone charger—they had the same model phone—and plugged it in behind the counter. He had unplugged Keith’s headphones and begun playing songs at low volume throughout the day, determined to try to get to know a complete stranger simply by his taste in music. 

So far he was confused.

“I guess,” he sighed. “I just had him pegged for the emo type.” After about twenty songs by MCR, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots, and more bands he had never heard of, Lance thought he had placed Keith in a genre. Then other artists began to show up in the shuffle. “I mean, Little Mix? Ariana Grande? _Hailee Steinfeld?_ He’s probably just a secret cheese.” 

Hunk popped the last of his cake into his mouth and said, “Haven’t you ever heard of not judging a book by its cover?” Lance had spent so much time trying to know a person just by his music taste, which is possible to do, but he also didn’t know a thing about Keith besides his name. Why was he so interested in him? “Are you sure you’re not just trying to find a reason to be creepy?”

“Rude.” Lance put a hand over his heart and feigned offense. “I’m just trying to make sure he isn’t creepy.” He flinched at his own terrible lie and stood up to walk back to the counter. His break was almost over, and so was his spare time with Keith’s phone. “After all, one of the most intimate ways to know a person is through the music they listen to.”

Hunk stood to follow him. “If you want to know,” he said as he leaned against the counter, “why don’t you just talk to him like a normal person instead of creeping through his phone, which he might currently be searching for?” 

He had a point, Lance thought. Hunk always has a point. “Look,” Hunk said gently, “I know it’s been a while since you’ve been able to function comfortably around a pretty face, but this isn’t exactly a good way to get back on your feet.” He’s known Lance for so long that he can read into Lance’s every thought with almost no effort. Lance couldn’t argue with Hunk. Not well, anyway. _He always has a point,_ he thought. 

Lance looked at him, eyes squinted and skeptical. He knew he was going through some stranger's phone; he knew that going through a stranger's phone was not normal and very invasive; he also knew that he didn't have an excuse for when Keith inevitably came back for his phone and wondered why the barista was listening to his music.

Which is exactly what happened. 

The bell above the door chimed and Lance immediately looked up to see the same boy in the same red scarf walking up to the counter. He panicked. He quickly stashed the boy’s phone under the counter and tried to look busy with…something. Hunk looked at Lance with one eyebrow raised and his mouth in a confused smile until he glanced over his shoulder, then his smile turned more sly. Lance gave him a warning look that read _not one word._

Keith stopped in front of them and hesitated. His eyes darted from Hunk to Lance, to the counter’s surface to the ceiling, and, finally, rested somewhere in between the two other boys. Lance wondered if he just really didn't like making eye contact or he was just nervous in general. _I’m going to change that,_ Lance thought. He was now determined to make this boy, whom he still doesn't know, look him in the eye. Challenge accepted. 

“I think,” he started slowly, as if inspecting each word before he said it, “I left my phone here yesterday.” He chanced another quick look at Lance before averting his gaze again. He sniffed a little and shuffled in his spot while he waited for Lance to respond.

Lance couldn’t just pull the phone out from under the counter immediately. That would look far too suspicious, and it would certainly make Keith think he’s creepy. He began thinking of ways to distract Keith from the fact that he was snooping just a few moments ago. If he could get Keith to look away long enough to slip the phone into his pocket and walk to the back to “check the safe,” everything would be okay. Hopefully. He was just about to point across the shop and yell something stupid—“Is that a giant blue robot lion?”—when Hunk snapped his fingers and turned to Keith.

_Hunk to the rescue,_ Lance thought. 

“Aren’t you in my engineering class with Dr. Iverson?” He looked directly at Keith with a friendly smile that showed even through his eyes. Hunk had a way of getting people to warm up to him, and, surprisingly, Keith looked back. He was caught off guard by Hunk’s abrupt change of subject, but he seemed to soften up and nod in answer to Hunk’s question. Hunk took that as his cue to carry on. “How are you doing on your final project? He’s a real dick for assigning a project and a comprehensive exam, right? Oh, I’m Hunk, by the way…” Hunk held out his hand and continued rambling on to Keith as they shook. 

Lance caught Hunk’s eye, sending a silent understanding through the air. He quickly slipped Keith’s phone from under the counter into his pocket and backed into the kitchen while Keith was focused on Hunk. Once through the swinging door, he let out a sigh and leaned against the wall, taking out the phone once again and twirling it in his fingers. He jumped and almost dropped it when he heard someone clear her throat and say, “You’re going in the wrong direction.”

He looked across the room and saw Allura sitting on a stool and leaning on a table, a coffee cup held to her lips. She crossed her legs and raised an eyebrow, giving Lance the most skeptical look he had ever seen. Her dark eyes looked straight into his soul as he gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, the hand holding the phone going behind his back. “Oh, hey, Allura. I didn’t know you were back here.” Her eyebrow raised even higher in skepticism. “I was just, uh…”

Allura shook her head and prompted Lance to continue his lie. “You were just…” she began slowly, “hiding from a boy whose phone you haven’t put down all morning?” Suddenly her face transformed into one of humor and kindness. She set her cup down, crossed her arms, and nodded for Lance to take the empty stool next to her. “Lance,” she continued gently, “I say this with love…” She paused as Lance got settled and looked at her expectantly. “You’re being creepy.” 

Ouch. Well, she wasn’t wrong. 

“When I said ‘press play’ yesterday I didn’t mean for you to become so enthralled with it,” she said, her English accent becoming more noticeable. “I only meant to be a little bit nosey and just play what was next on the list. Now you're acting as if—“ She stopped short and slowly turned back to face Lance, when her lips slowly curved into a sly smile and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see.”

Lance could feel his face flush at Allura’s implication. Granted he wasn’t very subtle about it, he still tried to hide it. “You have a crush.” His face felt even warmer and threatened to melt Lance. That was all Allura needed to get her answer. “Lance McClain, the famous flirt, is stumbling over his words?” Her mock surprise was accented by her beating eyelashes and Lance had to look away. “I may be a bit nervous,” he mumbled. 

Something about Keith lingered in his mind and he couldn’t whip out his natural charm as easily. He thought back to the previous day when he had tried to charm Keith, but all he received was a confused look. He didn’t even notice. Then he thought back to a few minutes prior to his retreat when Keith wouldn’t look at him for more than a second, but he warmed to Hunk almost immediately. Lance’s charm doesn’t affect Keith, but Keith has an effect on Lance. That was an almost new feeling for him, one he hadn't felt in a while. 

Allura’s voice broke through his thoughts as she continued. “…honestly don’t know why you don’t ask him out. That’s much better than creeping on him.” She looked at Lance with care, her brown eyes trying to coax him into admitting his feelings. 

“I don’t know how,” he sighed. Those words felt weird coming from his lips. He expected Allura to laugh; she didn’t. She brushed a strand of her silver hair out of her face and placed her chin in the palm of her hand as she leaned on the table, indicating that she would listen to him. “I’m not usually the one to initiate these things,” he continued, the words flowing out. “I flirt all the time, yeah, but the other person has always been the one to initiate the dating interest. I’ve never actually asked anyone out before.” He suddenly felt embarrassed, which didn't help the blush still spread from ear to ear. 

Allura sighed a little in sympathy and stared at Lance for a few seconds more until she stood up to peak out the swinging door. She tapped a finger to her chin in thought and turned to face Lance again. “Okay, Lance,” she began. “I’m going to give you some advice about dating.” 

“No offense, Allura, but when’s the last time you went on a date yourself?” She waved off his question and began pacing with a determined look. “I’m simply so good at this, Lance, don’t you worry your precious little head,” she said. “All the girls on the block are knocking on my door. They want to know what it is that make the boys want more.” 

She almost sang to Lance with how excited she was. Apparently she helped all of her girlfriends get dates with her magical wisdom. “So it’s settled, and since you work for me you can have this session at a knocked down price, assuming you can use it wisely.” She winked at him and returned to her stool, grabbing Lance’s hands in her own and looking again into his eyes. “The answer is simple: use what’s in front of you.” 

Suddenly Lance was lost. “What?” he asked in a deadpan. Use what’s in front of him? Well right now that was Allura, and she already made it clear that she was helping. “What are you talking about?”

“You work in a coffee shop!” she exclaimed. “What don’t you understand? Coffee shop romances are all the rage right now, and you just so happen to work in mine. How lucky of you!” Her sudden enthusiasm was overwhelming, but Lance still didn’t quite grasp what she was trying to suggest. He gave her another confused look and waved his hand in a circular motion that said please continue.

“Use the coffee, Lance. Make him a special brew, ask him about himself, do your thing and you’ll be on a date before you know it.” He began to understand her idea slowly, but he was still stumped on how exactly to initiate that kind of thing. “Think of it as a secret potion. One drop should be enough.” 

He thought about making Keith some kind of special coffee. What was that supposed to accomplish? His coffee-making skills were about as average as any other college barista’s. He couldn’t possibly brew some sort of drink that was magical enough to land him a date. Those kinds of events only happened in the movies; it wasn’t realistic… At least not with his luck. Unless it wasn’t all about how it tasted. Maybe it was just his way in. His Trojan Horse, so to speak. 

Keith seems pretty well-guarded when it comes to his social skills, that much Lance is easily aware. What if Allura had a point? Just use the coffee, he thought to himself. He looked at Allura, still contemplating all of his possibilities—one being avoid her at all costs from now on—and all of her suggestions. Half of him didn’t trust in her reliability, but the other half of him was suddenly piecing together all of the times when Allura comforted some of her girlfriends, and even complete strangers, in the shop with some friendly advice. 

None of the girls ever seemed displeased with her, to his knowledge. He just never thought she was giving them love advice. 

In that moment he decided to trust her.

“Okay,” he finally said with some confidence. “I’ll do it. I’ll ask him out.” Allura’s face lit up with such warmth that Lance couldn’t help but feel more relaxed. He stood and took a few deep breaths, but as he started walking toward the door, Allura stopped him with a, “One more thing!”

She held out her hand, glancing at Keith’s phone to indicate that Lance hand it to her. “Tell him it’ll be a moment. Trust me,” she said with a wink. He sighed, handed her the phone, and walked through the swinging wooden doors into the cozy coffee shop. 

Hunk was still chatting away at Keith—not to Keith, but at him—as he caught sight of Lance’s return. Lance stopped before them and cleared his throat. Keith jumped so slightly Lance almost didn’t notice and turned his eyes to meet Lance’s. They were a deep blue with flecks of gray spread across the iris. At the right angle, they caught the light in such a way that they appeared to be a shining purple, like amethysts. Lance stared into them for a little too long, almost getting lost in them before remembering that he might be coming across as creepy again. He cleared his throat again and stuttered something similar to, “ M-my boss said it’ll be a minute…”

He watched as Keith’s expression changed almost imperceptibly. His eyes shook as they focused on not looking away, his brows furrowed in slight confusion, and his mouth closed as his teeth chewed on his bottom lip. Lance thought his knees might give out just looking at the other boy’s endearing mannerisms. _Now what?_ he thought, hoping Allura would pull through. He glanced over at Hunk, who began to back away and whistle an off-key tune, leaving Lance to stumble around in his head for a solution. 

_Use what’s in front of you, Lance_ , a voice in his head told him. “Would you, uh, like a drink while you wait?” he asked quietly. “On the house.” He lifted the corner of his lips in what he hoped was his usual smirk, but he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to be certain. He grabbed a cup and a marker out of habit and began writing Keith’s name, but paused for a second as he got an idea. He finished writing and looked up as Keith still stared.

“A-uh… latte, I guess,” he mumbled. Lance’s nervous smile grew wider at the sight of Keith’s brows soften and his shoulders fall as he let out a breath he must've been holding. He watched Lance as he went over to the machines and began brewing. His hands worked on autopilot, grabbing bottles of milk and spoonfuls of coffee grinds. The machines hissed and hummed as they heated and stirred and percolated the mixtures inside of them. 

The machines beeped when the coffee was done, and Lance poured the latte. He turned to Keith, cup in hand, and placed it on the counter. Keith looked at it and frowned before rotating the cup enough to read the word written in black. “Keef?” he asked. “Really?” The way he said it made Lance pause, worried he made a mistake, but he could see the faintest of smiles hiding on Keith’s face. He felt a proud tug in his gut. _Now we’re getting somewhere._

“So you go to the university here?” Lance wondered aloud. He wanted to keep the mood going before he lost his momentum. “Sounds like you and Hunk have some classes together, but I’ve never seen you around.” 

Keith took a sip of his coffee before responding. “We only have the one class,” he said, growing more confident with his words. “I’m only taking it because I needed a non-major elective and I wanted to learn some mechanics.” He took another sip and Lance could see the warmth of the drink begin to spread across his pale face. 

“So what do you really study?”

“Forensic science.” 

That’s not the answer Lance expected. He doesn’t know what he expected, but forensic science sure wasn’t on the list. “That’s…really neat. Detective work suits you.” 

“How would you know?” Keith asked, a bit of playfulness creeping into his voice. Lance smirked and thought, _That’s my way in._

“Good point,” he said with an air of nonchalance. “I guess I’m going to have to get to know you to make an accurate observation.” The blush across Keith’s face spread more and reddened more deeply at Lance’s response. He brought his drink to his face once again, this time keeping it there to hide what Lance thought was a smile. 

Lance waited for Keith to say something, anxious to see where this conversation would go, but at the same time he didn’t want Keith to move. He was content to just look at the flustered boy in front of him, uselessly hiding behind a cup of coffee. When the silence got too long, too unbearable, Lance opened his mouth to speak just as Keith glanced up through his long lashes and frowned. He was looking over Lance’s shoulder. 

“Huh?” Lance turned his head like an owl, not wanting to lose sight of Keith, but wanting more to see what Keith was looking at. He just barely caught the door to the back swinging on its hinges, a sign that someone had just been there. Through the small circular window he caught a flash of silver. “Way to ruin the moment,” me muttered.

‘What was that?” 

“W-what?” Lance whipped back around, worried Keith might have heard and taken it personally. “Uh, nothing, nothing at all. That was just—“ With a sound of a hip bumping against wood and a swoosh of air, Allura suddenly appeared next to Lance, effectively cutting off his poor excuse of saving the moment. 

“Sorry it took so long, Lance,” she began in a sing-sing tone, acting oblivious to the whole scene. “I was finishing up some employee evaluations.” She winked at him and turned to smile at Keith. Lance had the suspicion that Allura’s “evaluations” weren't the typical performance records and were more along the lines of eavesdropping. “You’re the one missing the phone, yes?” she asked Keith. 

He nodded, set his coffee down, and reached out as Allura handed the phone to him with a warm smile. “You should be more careful where you place it,” she told him. “You never know who might go through it.” Lance’s eyes went wide and he stifled an indignant screech at Allura’s comment. She ignored him and continued to smile at Keith, who looked increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutiny. 

“Didn’t I have my headphones plugged in, too?” Lance could have exploded then and there. “And I swore the battery would’ve been dead or close to it by now” he muttered more to himself than to either of the other two. Keith’s observations are not ones that Lance had considered in the last several minutes. How could he forget the headphones that he had unplugged and set underneath the counter alongside the phone? Keith was surely suspicious already, but if Lance pulled them out now he would confirm everything. He had to come up with some sort of excu— “These?”

Allura had found them.

Lance could feel his own face turn red this time. He made a show of coughing so he could turn away and hide his embarrassment. Keith was going to figure it out. This was the end. Lance was finished. “Yeah, thanks.”

He turned back to Keith, who showed no signs of anger or being weirded out or anything. He wound up the cord and shoved the headphones into his jacket pocket and quickly typed out a message on his phone. Once he placed that in his jeans pocket, he gave a nod to Allura and gave a quick thanks. Turning to Lance, he picked up his coffee and said, “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll see you around?” 

Lance stood there with his mouth open, unsure of how to respond after his mini episode. Allura reached over and placed her fingers on his jaw, pushing up and closing his mouth. That snapped him out of his daze. “Yeah. See you around, _Keef_.” He gave a slight smile and a wave as Keith turned to leave, walking out the door with a quick glance back. Then he was gone. 

Lance let out a sigh of both relief and amazement. Out of the corner of his vision he saw Hunk walk back up to the counter to give Lance a pat on the shoulder. “Looks like that went well.” Lance felt like he was floating, but he also felt like something was missing. His expression changed to one of confusion. There seemed to be a lot of confusion floating around. Allura was already on top of it, though, ready with a barrage of questions. “Did he like the coffee? Did you ask him out? _Tell_ me you at least got his number!”

_What the cheese…_ That was it. Lance’s knees gave out and he sank to the floor in a heap of limbs, moaning as if he had been shot. I forgot to get his number. Allura huffed. “Consider your evaluations failed.”

Lance didn't even look up. “You’re the one who gave faulty advice,” he groaned. “I did everything you said to do.” He wondered how he was going to see Keith again after this. The only bit of information he got was the general area where Keith could be found at the university, but with only about a week left of class, he wasn't sure he could just casually bump into Keith before winter break. Finally looking at Allura, he asked, “What kind of business are you running anyway?”

She laughed. “It’s called black magic, Lance. You’re just too innocent to use it.” She patted his head and walked towards the back door again, calling behind her, “I’m taking three dollars from your pay for the coffee.” He gave one final huff as he heard her retreating laugh again and, still sitting on the floor, leaned back on the counter.

Hunk reached across and patted his head again. “There, there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I didn't know how coffee works. 
> 
> Stay tuned for some more Keef and Pigeon!


	3. Voodoo Doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's caught up in his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Voodoo Doll by 5SOS

Pidge dropped a stack of books onto the circulation desk, startling Keith awake. She leaned on them and focused a look of pure frustration out toward the book stacks. Every study area was filled; every desk occupied; every return cart filled. Finals were well under way and the library was busier than any time during regular semester hours. Finally, Pidge let out a sigh and dropped into the seat next to Keith, laying her head on a clean section of their desk and burying it in her arms. 

“I hate the finals frenzy,” she said, her words muffled. Keith could tell that she wanted to scream, and he appreciated her restraint since there were no loud noises in the library. Supposedly. Every now and then they would hear a loud crash or a louder laugh. The silence was almost always disturbed with a rush of whispers. “These people are never here ever and they choose finals week to actually get to work?”

Keith nodded in understanding. They have both been student assistants at the university library since they were freshman. The building is usually near-vacant at all times, only occupied by the students who were either constantly overwhelmed with homework or actually needed the library’s resources. During the last weeks of the semester, though, it seemed the whole university suddenly discovered that the building had a purpose. Keith and Pidge weren't used to so much work, not that they hated their job, but the students who came into the library to goof off and leave a mess were thorns in their side.

“Why haven't they dropped out yet?” Pidge grumbled. 

Keith smirked and nudged her elbow, setting down his pen. He was trying to rewrite his notes in some attempt to study, but they were already on hour three of the night shift and his mind was scrambled. He turned in his chair to face the books Pidge had brought to be sorted and placed back on the shelves. “Maybe if we hide all of the books they need they’ll leave.”

Pidge bit into her forearm to muffle a cackle. She finally sat up and leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms upward. She let out a yawn and leaned onto the desk again. “I’m tired and I don’t want to work. Tell me a bedtime story.” 

Keith looked at several books nearest to him and read off the titles. “What do you want to hear? _Physiology of the Human Body?_ _Interstellar Travel and the Concept of Quantum Physics?_ Oh, here’s a good one. _Aliens: Real or Real.”_ He picked up the last book and skimmed through the pages. 

“As interesting as aliens are,” Pidge began, “I’d much rather hear about what’s on your mind.” She poked him in the side for extra effect. “You’ve basically been staring at your notes like they’ll write themselves.”

Keith felt his cheeks flush and he closed the book with a soft _thwup_ and set it back on Pidge’s pile. He looked out towards the book stacks and tried to avoid Pidge’s weary gaze. He had been a bit preoccupied with his thoughts, but he tried to play it off as being studious and thoughtful. Apparently Pidge knew better. 

“I’m just worried about my tests is all,” he said. He glanced over at her to see a raised eyebrow and a frown. 

‘That’s a lie. You always do well in your classes regardless,” she replied. “Spill.”

Keith stood up and made an exaggerated gesture at the number of books lying about. “Wow! Look at all this work that needs to be done!” He grabbed Pidge’s new stack and placed each book on the already-overflowing cart. “I think I’m going to re-shelf these before it gets too chaotic back here.” He grabbed the cart’s handle and began backing it out the door and around to the front of the desk. Pidge’s glare didn’t waver.

“We have to be here until two in the morning,” she said, deadpan. “I’m not going to follow you because I don’t want to work, but I _will_ get you to talk before the night is over.” She made a two-finger gesture over her eyes and then pointed them at Keith as he retreated to the elevator, an understood _I’m watching you_. 

He shrugged as the doors closed. He puffed out his cheeks and let out a breath, pressing the button for the fourth floor. 

Pidge was too perceptive for her own good. Keith really had been trying to study, but eventually his thoughts began to wander. He couldn’t stop thinking about the boy from the coffee shop. Lance, he thought. They weren’t smitten thoughts or anything. Rather, they were confused thoughts. 

Keith couldn’t quite place the mood of his interaction with Lance. He seemed nice and charming, but was he actively trying to be or was it his natural semblance? Several times throughout both of his encounters with Lance he wondered if maybe Lance was flirting with him. When he went back for his phone, that other guy had jumped in and introduced himself, and when Keith looked back at Lance, he was gone, not a word said. He began to think he imagined intentions that weren't actually there.

The elevator’s bell chimed and the doors quietly slid open to reveal yet another floor of zombified students. The fourth floor was the quietest. It’s the designated “silent floor” with a strictly enforced silence policy. And by strictly enforced, it really means a warning from a passing library worker or a loud _ssshhh!_ from a student trying to work. Mostly, though, everyone on this floor abided by the rules. 

Keith rolled his cart forward and went to the right, toward the literature section. He stopped at the beginning of the row and checked to make sure the books were ordered correctly on his cart. They were. Pidge developed a system for sorting books by section that she and Keith understood better than the head librarians’ system. Pidge basically had the map of every floor burned into her memory and made the process so much more bearable for Keith. 

All of the books on the cart were in order according to the good old dewey decimal system, but also separated by subject and shelf—top to bottom—so that Keith could zigzag around the book stacks quickly, placing each book on the shelf as he walked by. It was simple. Pidge made sure of it.

She was a genius for her age. Only sixteen and already steadily advancing through university studies. Keith and she have been friends ever since middle school, when Pidge skipped several grades and wound up in Keith’s class. He had just moved to town and didn’t know anyone. Pidge didn’t really connect well with her older classmates at first; Keith was the only one to treat her like an equal, despite the age difference. They bonded really well. 

Her perceptiveness was only one drawback of their friendship. It meant Keith couldn’t get away with anything. 

He thought about telling Pidge the truth instead of avoiding her, but he also didn't feel comfortable with the whole concept yet. Ever since the coffee shop incidents, Keith has felt a knot in his gut that he can’t identify. Lance’s attitude toward him brought back some feelings that Keith hates to feel, feelings that should mean something—but what? Until he was sure, he didn't want to tell Pidge. She might be understanding after a while of friendly teasing—and cackling—but the teasing would only make him feel worse, even though he knows she means well. 

Keith felt that feeling tug in his gut again. _Focus_ , he thought. _Work now, mope later_. He finished several more rows of books while he was lost in thought—his body on autopilot while his mind wandered. 

As he finished the last row, he looked at his cart to see the fourth-floor books were all gone. He double-checked the other side and determined that it was time to move on to the third floor before returning to the circulation desk to get the other cart. And dodging Pidge again, he thought. He pulled out his phone and checked the time. Just a few more hours.

He walked toward the elevator and looked down each aisle on his way in search of misplaced or unshelved books, when he saw a shadow moving in the opposite direction a couple rows back. He swore he saw a mop of brown hair and long skinny legs disappear behind a bookstack. He kept walking, shaking his head to clear it. There were plenty of people on this floor still, though most of them were in the study areas. 

Keith pressed the call button and immediately heard the ding of the bell and the hum of the opening doors. He pushed the cart in rather noisily—oops—and turned to press the button for the fourth floor. The doors began to close, but as they did he swore he heard an obnoxious and unnecessarily loud whisper. “ _Keith?_ ” 

His head shot up in an attempt to get one last glance out the doors as they quietly thumped shut and he felt the elevator descend. It was probably just a trick of his mind. The silence on the fourth floor sometimes played tricks on people after so long without hearing anything. For all he knew, it could have just been the blood rushing through his ears. _Sounded like a sneeze,_ he thought.

He shrugged to himself and went back to his thoughts. The elevator stopped and opened on the third floor. He trudged out and began his shelving process again, this time on a noisier floor. 

Clusters of students occupied every desk in sight. The windows of the reserved study rooms along the walls displayed groups of six or more crammed into a small spaces, writing on boards and debating who is right. Keith passed one girl with large hoop earrings who had three empty cups of coffee on the edge of her desk. Her hands cradled her drooping head as she stared at the stack of papers in front of her, her mouth moving along silently as she read. 

Keith felt for her. She seemed to be the only person he’s seen all night to actually be studying without disturbing anyone else. 

He had to weave around relocated desks that were moved to form groups. When he came across an unshelved book he would place it on the empty side of his cart to take back to circulation if it’s proper spot wasn't nearby. He was too tired to actively sort the books on-the-go. 

A prickle went down Keith’s neck when he turned to walk back to the elevator. He looked around him just to see if he was imagining it, but there were too many people to be sure. Maybe he was just paranoid, he thought. He’s usually uncomfortable around large crowds anyway, so it’s no surprise his reflexes might kick in. But still…

It’s like he can feel someone watching even when they’re nowhere to be seen. It’s like a touch that’s far away from him. 

He puffed out his cheeks and blew a huff of air upward, blowing his bangs out of his face. He walked back toward the elevator with his near-empty cart, but slowed as he passed the girl he saw earlier. Keith doesn’t talk to people often unprompted, and he especially doesn’t offer many favors to strangers, but he does have a soft spot for the innocent. This girl looked like she needed some kindness.

“Can I get these cups out of your way?” he whispered loud enough to get her attention. She jumped a little and looked up, her eyes weary and lined with red. Keith gave her what he hoped was a kind smile and gestured at her empty coffee cups.

The girl finally registered Keith’s question and her eyes softened, becoming more kind and thankful than exhausted. “Thanks,” she sighed. “My boyfriend went to get me another one anyway. If I add another cup I might spill the full one onto my notes.”

Keith gently grabbed each cup and set them on his cart away from the books he collected. “Seems like you don’t have time to blink, so this is the least I can do for you.” At that comment she seemed to realize her eyes were dry, because she suddenly began blinking her eyes in rapid succession. Then she rubbed them and gave a soft laugh, her hoop earrings swaying with the movement. 

“You know how it is,” she sighed. 

He did know. Keith had spent his fair share of long nights studying afraid that even one blink of his eyes might turn into a deep hibernation. “That I do,” he told her. “Be careful with the caffeine, though. Great stuff, but the crash hits you like a bus.” 

She laughed again, weakly this time, like it took more energy than she had. He gave her a nod; she smiled and waved as she turned back to her notes. As he finally reached the elevator’s call button he began to think about his last study session. He had accidentally pulled an all-nighter to catch up on his project for Dr. Iverson. He needed to type out his lab report and draw out his diagrams.

Iverson’s assignment for the semester had been to design and create something mechanical that used the basics of mechanics that he taught to beginning engineers. Keith decided to use the assignment as an opportunity to improve the motorbike he had been building for over a year. That’s really why he took the class in the first place. It was an intro engineering course that anyone could take if they wished; Keith just needed an elective and he thought it would be beneficial since he likes to work on bikes and cars. 

He designed his bike himself, gathered more equipment to add on to the ensemble he already had, and turned it into a project. The rest of his class probably didn’t go to such lengths as he had, but he didn’t care. He had fun doing it. 

He ended up getting so caught up in the designing and building part of the project that he forgot he needed to submit a physical lab report detailing the blueprints and the mechanics of the bike. Then he had to prepare to make a short presentation to Iverson as he turned it in the following day. Needless to say, he had needed a lot of coffee pick-me-ups. He did well on the project, though. Only one other person in his class got as much praise from Iverson as Keith, which still wasn't much because Iverson didn’t like many people.

_Hunk_. Keith remembered him now. He met Hunk in the coffee shop when he— When he met Lance. 

_Why do you keep popping into my head?_ his mind screamed. He forgot about calling the elevator, so he started at the opening of the doors. He let out yet another sigh and stepped in, this time pressing the button for the first floor. He heard the chime of the elevator next to his as the doors closed. He heard a deeper voice speak softly—“Alright, Shay, I got you _decaf_ this time…”—followed by what sounded like a weep. 

Keith suddenly felt very off. His thoughts kept running in circles and he couldn't seem to focus on any one task for too long. He felt a constant nagging in the back of his mind, urging him to think about the things—the _people_ —that he was content to ignore. 

He leaned back against the cool metal of the elevator’s interior and closed his eyes, relishing the brief moments of movement as he descended. Maybe he could just hide in there forever, he thought. He could avoid Pidge’s prying, he could avoid the stress of finals, he could avoid his emotions. The only ups and downs in his life would be from the change of floors. 

He felt the familiar flutter in his stomach as the elevator slowed and stopped with a slight jolt. The doors slid open and immediately he felt watched…by Pidge. He looked up to see her staring him down, unwavering, as she leaned back in her chair with her feet propped on the desk. She sipped on a straw of a drink she didn't have before. Keith heard a faint _sluuuuuurp_ as she kept pulling on the straw. 

He approached the desk cautiously. He wasn't sure what to expect from Pidge; she was unpredictable when she wanted information. 

Her eyes followed him. Even as he went behind the wall separating the desk space from the rest of the library, he could feel her stare through the plaster. He stopped in front of her as he entered their workspace, his grip on his cart tightening.

_Sluuuuuuuurp._

She stopped and smacked her lips, finally blinking slowly as she kicked the desk to turn herself facing Keith and crossing her legs. “I knew you’d be back.” 

Keith just stared, expressionless. “I work here—“

“They always come back.” She took another loud slurp through the straw, and Keith could see several faces turn in their direction from across the library.

“You know it’s empty, so why—“

“Dramatic effect,” she said shortly, then jerked her head in the direction of his vacant seat. “Sit. Let’s chat.”

He really didn't want to sit and chat. He wanted to get away from her before she could outsmart him and force him to stay. “I can’t, Katie. We have all these books to put away before we leave, and—“ He looked over to the mounds of books that… weren't there anymore. _Huh?_ Keith scratched the back of his head, his other hand propped on his hip. 

“What books?” Pidge asked innocently, her head cocked to the side and her brow furrowed. Keith might have believed her if he didn't know her well enough to pick out the slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“Where did they go?” he asked her.

“Oh,” she began with a dramatic sigh, “a little bird may have been coerced into emptying the nest.” She swung back and forth in her chair and pretended to pick at her nails. After a minute she looked up at Keith to see his unbelieving look and dropped her hands into her lap. “Fine, I gave it all to Hax and told him I’d buy him a smoothie.”

_Figures._

“So where’s his smoothie?” The straw was halfway to her lips again when he asked. She paused, mouth hanging open, and extended her arm to drop it in the trash bin under the desk. Keith just raised a brow and shook his head slowly.

“Anyway,” she continued, “now that we’re not busy—sit.” She gave an obviously fake smile that did nothing to hide her mischief. She knew that Keith wouldn't actively find work to do when he could be studying or essentially avoiding unnecessary interaction. 

After what seemed like hours staring into Pidge’s hardened and determined eyes, Keith let out a frustrated groan and shuffled over to his chair. He decided that he would tell Pidge the bare minimum just to get her off his back until either everything blew over or he figured out exactly what was wrong with him. He didn't quite know himself anyway. 

Pidge wasted no time getting to the point. “Spill,” she ordered.

He sighed and gave in. There was no use in arguing with a persistent Pidge.

“I’ve been feeling…” he hesitated. He wasn't sure how to phrase his words. “Things.” _Good enough,_ he thought. When Pidge showed no sign of budging, he tried again. “Have you ever felt like someone was watching you?” Pidge’s eyes narrowed. How was he supposed to explain what he couldn’t identify? The last few hours—the last few days even—have had him conflicted with emotions he didn’t even think were his. He thought maybe they were flukes, maybe he was sick. Hell, maybe someone lost their own emotions and shoved them on Keith like a… “Like a voodoo doll,” he finally said.

Pidge’s mouth dropped open and closed again just as quickly. Keith could almost see the circuits in her head trying to process his words. “You’ve lost me,” she said. 

_I swear…_ Taking a deep breath, he continued slowly. “I feel like someone is playing some voodoo tricks on me. Someone I met the other day.” That seemed to pique her interest. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed as she listened. “I’ve been thinking about this person ever since, but I don’t know why. I don’t even like—at least I don’t think—I don’t—“ he stumbled over his next few words. Even though he knew Pidge understood him completely, he still had trouble expressing himself when his personal emotions were involved.

Pidge began to smile, though. She rarely ever hears Keith talk about anyone of interest. He isn’t completely comfortable with expressing himself and he definitely isn't very forthcoming with his romantic interests. 

“Aw, Keith,” Pidge snickered. “You’re smitten.” Keith’s face flushed a deep red. He tried to come up with a quick response to say no, he was not smitten, but all that came out was a lot of broken gibberish. Pidge had to muffle her snickers with her hand to avoid attracting unwanted attention. 

Eventually Keith managed to get his thoughts back in order. “I’m not smitten,” he said defensively. “I told you, it’s like he’s got a voodoo doll and he’s… I don't know, making me feel things.” 

He thought back to his first encounter with Lance. All he wanted was a pick-me-up to get him through the rest of his day, but Lance happened. He thought of Lance’s warm smile that had a hint of his own mischief in it. He thought of the way Lance tried to joke with him, but Keith was so stunned that Lance was trying that he couldn’t manage to show any response. He wasn't used to people speaking to him like that casually. People he didn’t know, at least.

It was nice, though. _Lance_ was nice. 

“Since then I haven't been able to really understand what happened,” he went on more quickly. “It was probably nothing and I’m just overthinking everything. But there’s his face in my head and my heart and my chest and…” He noticed Pidge looking intently at the way he spoke. “And I’m having trouble catching my breath.” His blush returned stronger. 

“You… are smitten,” she sighed, but she didn't try to press. Keith had already told her more than he wanted, so he was grateful for her restraint. He could tell she wanted more details. 

“I don’t even know him or like him.” He propped his head on his hands, leaned on the desk, and stared back out across the library. He muttered more to himself than to Pidge, “Why’d he have to go and make me feel this way?” 

He closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander carefully. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Pidge looked at him thoughtfully for another few long seconds before taking the hint and gathering up some loose papers and the books Keith had brought from his journey through the book stacks. Keith would snap out of his funk eventually. She stood and headed for the elevators.

“I’m going to put these away and cause some stress,” she told him. “Try not to think too hard, and if you see Hax don’t tell him where I went.” Keith nodded and grunted a response without opening his eyes. He listened as the elevator arrived and carried Pidge upstairs. 

He was alone with his thoughts again. 

Keith tried to distract himself with his notes. He picked up his pen and began rewriting chemical equations for his chemistry class, trying to commit them to memory. After several attempts and several more mindless doodles— _Am I drawing hearts?_ his mind screamed—he threw his pen onto the desk along with his head. He slowly and methodically lifted and dropped his head, muttering, “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” with each thud. 

“Rough day?” a voice asked with a hint of humor. Keith’s head banging stopped abruptly, his head hanging in the air, bangs covering his flushing cheeks. _It can’t be,_ he thought. He recognized that voice. It’s the voice he’s been thinking about since the day he went back for his phone. Slowly, he raised his head to look over the desk to find a tall, lanky boy with lips pulled into a sly grin. “Don’t stop on my account,” he added.

Keith’s mind went blank. Lance was standing in front of him. In person, in the flesh. What is he supposed to say? He recalled Lance saying something about seeing him around sometime, but he didn’t expect it to be so soon—if at all—and especially not at work. 

Lance’s grin began to fall as Keith realized he was still staring, not saying anything. He tried to think of something to say, some normal form of greeting like _Hi_ or _What’s up?_

Instead he stuttered out some incoherent thoughts and ended up with, “How long have you been standing there?” _Smooth._

“Long enough to notice you've put a dent in the wood there,” he replied, nodding toward the desk. His smile was back. Keith caught himself staring again, caught in the gleam of Lance’s eyes and the shine of his teeth behind his lips, even brighter framed by his smooth brown skin. Not a blemish in sight.

Keith sat up straight and straightened the front of his shirt and brushed the hair out of his face. He urged his body to cool down, hoping that the blush on his face was fading. 

“How long have you been here?” Lance asked, leaning on the desk. “I’d be banging my head, too, if I were trapped in the library.”

“I’ve been here since six o’clock and we don’t close until two,” he said. “And for the record, I enjoy working here.” He saw Lance flinch a little at his response and realized that the second part might have sounded a bit more harsh than he intended. Trying to backtrack he added, “Do you not come here often? I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Nah. Hunk came to study with his girlfriend and he dragged me along. Something about ‘needing to study for once’ to pass my finals.” He waved this off as if finals were no big deal. Granted for some they weren’t, but usually the people Keith hears say that don’t show up the next semester. “I’m glad I did come, though. I could've sworn I saw you earlier, but I wasn’t sure.”

Keith thought back to hearing what he thought was a sneeze while he was shelving books. He had thought he was hallucinating when he saw a tall figure and heard his name. Now he knows Lance has been here the whole time, and he even noticed Keith. 

Lance leaned over more to look at Keith’s notes. “What are you working on? Is that chemistry?” 

“Yeah. I was reviewing the last few chapters for my final tomorrow.” He wasn't going to mention that he got distracted and that his distraction was standing in front of him. He pegged Lance as the type to let it go to his head.

“Oh, yeah. Forensic science, right?” Lance asked. He remembered. “Gonna solve some conspiracy theories?” He chuckled at his joke, his laugh sending both warmth through his gut and shivers down his spine. All he did was laugh softly in response because yes, that’s almost exactly what he was going to do.

Keith entered into the major because of his childhood interest in conspiracies that seemingly couldn't be solved. He would often stay up all night just thinking about the stories he would see on TV, stories that couldn’t be explained. When he found out Pidge was just as convinced as he was of their off-ness, they began theorizing together. 

Of course, he wasn't going to tell Lance that. So he kept laughing politely until the moment got awkward and he stopped with a cough. That’s when he noticed the books in Lance’s hands. “Did you want to check those out?”

Lance looked confused for a second before Keith nodded at the books. “Oh, I forgot.” He handed them to Keith, who set them by the computer and opened up the check-out menu. 

“I just need your student ID,” he said. While Lance dug through his pockets and his bag in search of his ID, Keith began stamping the due date in the cover of the books. There were five total, each pertaining to aircraft and the laws of aerodynamics. With a quiet _aha!_ , Lance handed Keith his card. He scanned it and Lance’s university profile pulled onto the screen with his library history. All of the numbers were zeros. “Well, you've broken your record for the number of books checked out.”

He tried to ignore Lance’s reaction. He glanced up to see Lance’s bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He really tried to ignore it.

He failed.

He busied himself by scanning the books and rubbing the spines against the demagnetizing strip. He stacked them and handed them back to Lance, who took them and continued to stand at the desk. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. Keith was terrible at small talk. Lance was the one to break the silence. 

“So listen,” he said a little sheepishly. “Hunk and I are having a little get-together after finals are over.” Keith’s eyes widened a little. _Was Lance…_ “It’s nothing big,” he added. “Just like a celebratory game night. D’ya want to come?” He chewed on his bottom lip and his eyebrows were scrunched.

Lance was asking him out. Well, not _out_ , but out to hang out. They barely knew each other, but here he was inviting Keith out. Keith didn’t want to get attached, but he felt drawn to Lance’s offer. He didn’t have many friends, especially since starting university. He had Pidge, obviously, and Shiro. But he never got out much. Despite his inner self telling him to decline, he nodded and said, almost too quietly, “Yeah. Sure.” 

Lance’s face lit up and Keith suddenly forgot all of his worries. “Great,” Lance said. He reached over and grabbed Keith’s pen and his chemistry notes—luckily the ones without the ink heart doodles—and scrawled out some numbers. He noticed when Lance handed him the paper that it was a phone number. Lance’s phone number written in his scratchy handwriting. He stared at it longer than was probably necessary and snapped back to focus when Lance said, “Text me when you’re free from finals and I’ll give you the details.” 

The elevator bell chimed and two people stepped off. Keith looked over Lance’s shoulder and recognized the girl from the third floor—the girl with the large hoop earrings and the coffee collection—leaning against the larger guy from the coffee shop. Hunk. 

Hunk noticed Lance at the desk and led the girl over. “C’mon, Lance. Shay’s finally crashed and I need to get her to bed before she tries to get more caffeine.” He gave Keith a polite smile and a nod, then headed for the door. Lance grabbed his books and smiled at Keith again.

“See you around,” he said over his shoulder. Keith’s eyes followed as the three walked out the doors. He wasn’t entirely sure that he was in real life—part of him hoped he was passed out on the job and would wake up any second—but he stared down at the number on his notes and saw the undeniable proof in ink. _Damn it,_ he thought. But also, _whoa._

His jumbled thoughts were interrupted with the sound of slurping from the right of the desk. He looked up and saw Pidge leaning against the wall at the end of the hallway directly across, another smoothie cup in her hand. She stood there staring at him. Even with the straw in her mouth he could see the corner raised and a gleam in her eyes. 

“Seriously?” he asked, deadpan. She walked over slowly, swaying with feigned innocence. She reached the desk, still slurping, and laid her elbows in the top. 

Smacking her lips and letting out a refreshed sigh, she opened her mouth to say something when Keith heard, “Pidge!” from across the lobby. “Pidge! Where’s my smoothie?” 

Hax was marching toward the desk, glaring at Pidge the entire time. Pidge hissed a quick swear, followed by, “Don’t think this is over!” She rushed off, smoothie still in her hand, pursued by an angry-looking Hax. Keith might’ve been concerned, but he thought she deserved it for butting in. And he was still in slight shock. 

He dropped his head onto the desk with another loud _thud_ , all potential thought processes abandoned. He would eventually have to talk to Pidge, and he would definitely have to figure out what to do about Lance, but right now he was content to bang his head against the desk and wonder why his life had to be so confusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may not know coffee but I do know libraries.
> 
> WOW sorry. I meant to have this done weeks ago but school sucks, amirite. Hopefully starting with the next chapter the story I want will start to feel less like a fluffy rush and more like a solid fluff with more substance idk. I'm getting there. 
> 
> I'm actually having a lot of fun with this so far, so hopefully I can get out more than 5k words next time. Let me know what you think. Validate me plzkthx.
> 
> Also I'm working on a tumblr side-blog, so come see me @voiided-space!!


	4. Press Pause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith sends a text and Pidge is a lil shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's no song for this chapter. A "pause," if you will. Explanations in the end notes!

Keith stared. 

He stared a lot. His eyes were dry as he maintained contact with his phone screen. He had his message app open, showing all three of his conversation threads. The most recent was with Pidge, who texted that she was on her way over. Then he had his messages from Shiro, who’s last message said he was working a few hours later. Finally, he had his message from Matt, Pidge’s brother. That message was over a year old, sent back when Keith and Pidge were new to the university and he was asking where Keith wanted to meet for a quick tour. It was a sentimental text, though, so he couldn't bring himself to delete it. 

His current message threads weren’t important at that moment, though. What concerned Keith more was the little add icon in the top right corner. If he pressed it, a new message window would open. A new message that could be sent to any number. All he had to do was type in the number. That’s it.

He collapsed on the couch after returning from his last final. He had planned on sleeping for an eternity, but a thought hit him: he’s done with finals. So he had pulled out his phone and just stared at it. 

He only stared at it. Three days have passed since Lance had given Keith his phone number. His scratchy handwriting took up only a corner of Keith’s chemistry notes, but it might as well have been in big bold font across the entire page considering it was all Keith could look at as he studied. He tried to focus on chemistry, he really did. One second he would be balancing an oxidation reaction and the next he would be studying the swoop of Lance’s 6 and the awful way his 3 was condensed, as if he drew it out too quickly. If not for the small space between the top and middle of the number, Keith might’ve taken it as a 7. 

Eventually he had to set that sheet of notes aside so he could focus on the rest. The day after, he took his chemistry final. He had the sneaking suspicion that some of the questions he knew he missed were on that specific sheet of his notes. He left the lecture hall a bit bitter. He knows he didn’t fail; he was confident enough that he passed with flying colors. They just weren’t as vibrant as they could’ve been had Lance not violated Keith’s numbers with his own. 

Once he finished his chemistry final and could set aside those notes, he was able to focus a bit more on his other classes. Then the next couple of days seemed to pass more quickly and a lot more bearably. Because of his finals, he couldn’t work in the library. He hasn't seen Lance since, but he knew Lance was probably waiting on a text or something. 

He’s probably been waiting on a text for days. 

Keith tried to compose a message multiple times, but every time he would convince himself that it was the wrong time or that Lance didn't need the distraction in the middle of finals or that he himself didn't need the distraction in the middle of finals. _Too late_ , he thought. 

Whenever he thought about sending a text he would stare at the screen until he fell asleep or someone pulled his attention away. Now, though, with his finals over and done with, he felt he was out of time. He couldn't put it off anymore. 

_Text me when you’re free from finals_ , Lance had said. 

Technically Keith could put it off more—forever, even—but he still didn't quite know how he felt about Lance. That nagging feeling in the back of his mind hadn't shut up. He couldn’t identify the feelings coursing through his head as friendly or confused or romantic or confused.  
Never before has Keith been in a situation like this. He didn't know how to flirt with people, really, let alone respond to flirting. _If Lance was even flirting at all_ , he thought. For all Keith knew Lance was just being completely friendly. _He’s probably not even into guys._

That’s what Keith told himself whenever he felt an inkling of attraction toward anyone. He’s never been one to just openly speak to people, new people. He’s never been in a serious relationship. He’s never been in a relationship _period_. He moved through homes a lot until he finally settled in with Shiro’s family. He never quite felt comfortable enough getting close to anyone out of fear of moving again. Even though he was finally adopted by the Shiroganes, the feeling stuck with him. He found it harder to get close to anyone anyway once he realized he was more attracted to guys than gals. 

Texas was a tough place for Keith to adapt. 

Shiro knew, of course. Keith trusted him. Pidge, too. But he wasn’t truly able to stop hiding behind a front until the three of them moved off to university. Before that he was able to use his grumpy demeanor and social avoidance as an excuse for not having a girlfriend. 

That’s why Keith is having so much trouble with his Lance problem. He doesn’t know how to approach the situation and he really doesn’t know if he even wants to. What he does know is Lance gave him a phone number and seemed to really want Keith to join him and Hunk for a game night. The way his face lit up when Keith said yes was burned into Keith’s memory. He would feel absolutely guilty if he never texted Lance after that. Also, he might run into Lance a few months down the road and have to deal with the enhanced awkwardness. _Why didn’t you ever text me?_ Lance would ask with his endearing and equally infuriating pout. 

Keith decided that that would be infinitely worse and resolved to not get to that point of procrastination. No excuse could cover that one up. 

He steeled himself, pushing down the butterflies in his stomach, and raised his phone. He entered in Lance’s number and tapped the text bar, watching the cursor blink. Oh no, he panicked. What if I read the numbers wrong and I end up texting the wrong number? He confirmed that he typed in the numbers correctly, then confirmed again, then confirmed that he read the numbers correctly for good measure. The last thing he wanted was to text a stranger. 

Still wary, he typed a simple message and pressed send. He regretted it almost immediately. 

**(17:34) Hey**

_Smooth stuff_ , Keith, he chastised himself. 

He waited several minutes, staring at his phone, waiting for a bubble to pop up and indicate that Lance had gotten his text and was responding. It didn’t appear. Keith kept waiting, his nerves acting up and making him even more impatient. The sooner Lance responded the sooner Keith could stop wanting to vomit so badly. He clicked the lock button and lowered the darkened phone. He had to stop caring. He couldn’t get too invested in this. None of this mattered. He was calm.

His phone buzzed and lit up with a new message, startling Keith so much that he threw his phone halfway across the living room. He hid his hands behind his face as if something was going to crawl through the airwaves and out of the speakers to attack him.

Slowly, he lowered his hands and crept over the retrieve his phone—checking for cracks in the screen before anything else—and unlocked it. 

**(17:44) _keith???_**

**(17:45) Yep**

**(17:45) _oh thank god i was starting to think i didn't write my 3 good enough_**

Keith let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, then groaned internally. Lance had been waiting for him. It wasn't surprising, but the reality just hadn't kicked in. 

**(17:47) Sorry. I just finished finals today.**

Surely that excuse was good enough, right? Lance had, after all, told him to text when he was “free from finals.” Right?

**(17:47) _no its okay i did too_**  
**(17:47) _but i was starting to think you were playing hard to get ;)_**

_Why would he think that?_ Keith thought. He wasn’t trying to play anything. 

**(17:48) Uh, no, not that.**

**(17:51) _anyway how were your finals?_**  
**(17:51) did you pass them all?**

**(17:52) I think I did pretty well. How were yours?**

**(17:53) _great!!! i aced physics and calc_**  
**(17:53) _i dont think i did too well on my astronomy final_**  
**(17:54) _but i could never understand the prof anyway so i blame him_**

Lance apparently was a believer in multi-texting. His text bubbles popped up nearly seconds apart. It’s like he can't fit one thought into one text, no matter how small the thought is. Keith looked at their conversation so far and realized his messages were so dry, so curt. Lance seemed at ease already, easily able to text so smoothly and so enthusiastically, without any fear of multi-texting. Keith was running out of small talk already. What was he supposed to say now? How’s the weather? 

He still hadn't responded when Lance sent another text a few minutes later. _God, I am so bad at this._

**(18:01) _so i take this as a sign youre coming to game night??_**  
**(18:01) _hunk is cooking and his food is godlike_**

How in the world is Lance so casual about all this, like making friends is so simple? Keith’s mind can’t process any of it. He barely knows Lance, yet he’s invited for games and food as if they've been friends forever. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he tried to think up some kind of response. _It can’t hurt to go_ , he thought. 

**(18:04) Depends. What’s on the menu?**

**(18:05) _homemade pizza i think_**  
**(18:05) _he really wants to try that thing where you toss the dough in the air_**  
**(18:06) _its like his dream_**  
**(18:07) _i’ll be bringing the ass kicking with a side of tears bc i dominate at game night_**

**(18:09) We’ll see about that.**

Keith couldn’t help challenging Lance. After seeing Lance’s pout when he poked fun at his library record, he wanted to see it again by beating him at his own games. Plus, Keith would never turn down an opportunity to take someone down a few pegs if he could. 

**(18:10) _are you issuing a challenge??_**  
**(18:10) _you’re on, mullet_**

**(18:11) Smack talking already?**

_Mullet? Seriously?_ Keith thought. He found Lance’s lousy attempt at smack talking a bit funny. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he thought of how competitive Lance must be, and how even more ridiculous he might be when he’s caught up in the heat of the game. 

Keith’s phone buzzed as another message came through, this time a map with a red pin stuck in what was apparently Lance’s current location. His address. He wasn’t that far from Keith’s apartment. According to the map, he could walk there in about fifteen minutes. 

**(18:14) _be there or be square bc youre going down_**

He locked his phone and set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch. He started thinking about everything that just happened. He spoke to Lance. He agreed to go to Lance’s place for game night. He challenged Lance. Keith’s heart started racing, but this time not in a good way. The butterflies in his stomach turned into a twister as he started getting nervous. He wasn't sure how to interact with Lance in person. What if he went over and made a complete fool of himself? Any time he went with Shiro anywhere with people he didn’t know, he clung to Shiro like he would get lost. It’s not like he couldn’t interact with anyone ever, but he still got nervous in unfamiliar territory. He needed a crutch. 

He heard the door to his apartment open and close with a slam, followed by light footsteps and the sound of a backpack hitting the floor. 

Pidge appeared from around the corner and trudged into the living room to plop onto the couch with Kieth, forcing him to draw his legs in. 

“What’s dead inside and is finished with finals?” she asked. She looked at Keith expectantly, waiting for him to guess the answer. 

“You?” he replied, but her expression didn't change. 

“Finished with finals, maybe, but dead inside? No,” she said. “No, that would be my coding professor.” Her eyes began to shine with the usual Pidge-like gleam she got whenever she was being an evil genius. That look always made Keith feel like he should prepare for the FBI to show up at his door waving a wanted flier with Pidge’s face on it. “He doubted me, and now he has to grade a final project that will take at least two days.” 

“How do you know he wont just fail you?” Keith asked. 

“He won’t be able to,” she said with a shrug. “The code will backspace any number combination that isn’t 1-0-0 when he’s entering grades online.” She side-eyed Keith, waiting. “This is when you say, ‘Isn’t that—‘“ 

“Isn’t that cheating? And wrong?” He knew there was more, but he humored Pidge anyway. She had a tendency to drag out her ingenious plans for more effect. 

“I’m glad you asked, Keith-y boy!” She lit up and turned to face him better. “See, he wanted us to impress him. So I told him I could easily make a perfect score with the assignment. He said I couldn’t.” She nodded and waved her hand in a circle. _Come on, you got this_ , she seemed to mime. 

“So you made sure you would get a perfect score.” Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s not bad, actually.” 

Her smirk was in full bloom at Keith’s compliment. She thrived when others acknowledged her ingenuity. She leaned back into the couch, folding her hands behind her head as she relaxed. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. She looked like she might fall asleep…until Keith’s phone buzzed again. 

Her eyes snapped open almost immediately. She looked down at the coffee table and over at Keith; she squinted and looked back at the coffee table. “Isn’t Shiro working…?” she said, slowly, skeptically. 

Keith could feel it happening. He could sense it. He tried to play it off, act like he wasn't affected by her scrutiny. He shrugged and inched toward his phone, not once breaking eye contact with Pidge. “He can text while he’s teaching.” _Closer… closer…_

“But he _doesn’t_.” She snapped forward and grabbed Keith’s phone as she jumped off the couch, running into the kitchen. “You don’t _get_ messages from other people!” she called, a laugh ringing through he air. He quickly got up and followed her only to see her holding his phone out at arm’s length. She rocked back and forth on her heels, a huge grin splayed across her face. 

He took his phone and the screen lit up with another message from a number he hadn’t yet saved to his contacts. 

**(18:33) _i just realized that a time might be helpful_**  
**(18:33) _tomorrow at 6p?_**

_Crap_ , he thought. He looked up at Pidge, hoping he didn't show any concern. She kept smiling as she rocked. 

“So,” she drawled. “What’s tomorrow at six?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh... I have some 'splainin to do. 
> 
> My semester is pretty writing and reading intensive, so life sucks. Add that to not feeling motivated to do anything at all, it really sucks. So I'm posting a short chapter bit here because I felt like this was a good in-between to sort of keep the fic going and catch up at the same time.
> 
> I'll get the second part of this chapter (along with the song) typed up and ready to go soon (hopefully)!
> 
> Thanks for sticking around thus far and bear with me please and thanks!


	5. How to be a Heartbreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guitar Hero and angsty feelings make for a toasty game night with friends, but Keith has to follow some rules to make sure he doesn't come on too strong. Or not. He's not good with this kind of thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI HAS IT BEEN A YEAR ALREADY? So I graduated and I have time to do these things, but still very little motivation to actually function, but I saw this in my files and decided to just...push through and finish the chapter? I want to keep working on the whole story, I really do, so I'm gonna see what happens leggooooooo. Anyway lemme know what you think but be gentle pls.
> 
> anyway this chapter's song is How to Be a Heartbreaker by Marina and the Diamonds
> 
> also follow me on tumblr @onetruemamoo or @voiided-space kthx

Keith pulled into the driveway of a small white house. The paint was covered in a thin layer of dirt and moss. The pavement was cracked with dying weeds poking through, revealing the soil beneath. The grass, more brown than green, was cut short, unable to grow through the winter temperatures. He looked up the driveway and saw two bikes leaning against the side of a separate garage, one blue and one yellow. Through the alley between the house and garage, he could see several lawn chairs surrounded by toys—trucks, hula hoops, basket balls, and…pool noodles? There must’ve been a pool in the backyard, out of sight. 

The house looked lived in, that’s for certain, but Keith thought it looked homey. Comfortable. It didn’t look run down, but natural. There were trees with long limbs growing to the left of the garage, the foliage acting as a blanket. He saw a tire swing and was immediately sold.

The sun was just about set. The orange glow peeked through the tree leaves, but it still left a large shadow across the front yard. Warm lighting flowed out of the front windows, through thin curtains, and left streaks of gold on the wooden porch and the lawn beyond it. A shadow snuck across the light and Keith noticed the curtains pull back slightly as someone looked outside, no doubt attracted by the low purr of an idling engine. 

Keith sat straddling his motorbike, still taking in the sight of the house, as the front door opened and Lance walked out. He was stuffing his arms into a thick green jacket as he made his way down the porch steps and across the path to the driveway. Keith turned the key to shut off the engine and kicked his right foot down to set the support stand. He stood on his wobbly legs—from the ride there, he decided, and not from his nerves—and pulled his helmet off. 

“Hey,” he said, a bit breathless, as he looked at Lance, who had just reached him. Lance stood there, staring at Keith’s bike. He looked from the front wheel, over the glossy red frame that glowed like a flame in the setting sun, and to the back, where the seat extended to just over the rear wheel. Keith suddenly felt a little self-conscious. He wanted to walk over, since Lance’s house wasn’t that far, but Pidge had insisted that he take his bike. 

“You have to!” she had practically screamed at him. She had spent the majority of the afternoon doing that—screaming. The neighbors had eventually begun to bang on the walls, hinting that she should quiet down, but she was relentless. She had insisted that he should look mysterious and badass.

“Why do I care about being mysterious?” he had asked her. “We’re practically strangers. What’s more mysterious than that?” 

“Everyone loves a mysterious badass, Keith.” She had started to pace the floor, her arms flailing about, as she lectured him. “There are _rules_ to these kinds of things.”

As far as Keith knew, Pidge had never dated or even crushed on anyone, but there she had stood trying to teach Keith the rules of…of whatever this was. Keith just assumed she had gotten all of her _how to swoon_ knowledge from her RomCom movie nights with her brother. 

Now as Keith held Lance’s gaze, he felt more ridiculous with every passing second. He shouldn't have given in to Pidge, but there he was. He could still hear her voice singing in his head. _Boys, they like the look of danger_. 

“Hey,” Lance finally said, his breath leaving a puff of mist briefly swirling in front of him. Keith snapped back to reality. “You drive a motorcycle?” He sounded impressed and his eyes made another round across the bike. He stepped forward almost unconsciously and reached out to glide his hand across the right side handle. 

Keith swung his right leg across the bike, noticing all too well the feel of the jeans Pidge had thrown at him earlier. “Those are the ones that make your legs and ass look good, yes? _Wear them_.” He had wanted to ask why she was going through his closet—and how she found those specific jeans—but she had pushed him into the bathroom before he could. 

He looked back at Lance as he set his helmet down on the seat, just in time to see Lance’s eyes dart up and to the right, across Keith’s shoulder. “So is this your house?” he asked, nodding toward the front door. 

“Not really,” he replied. “It’s my abuela’s old house. She’s getting old and moved in with my parents so it would be easier for her.” He stuck his hands in his pockets as Keith walked around his bike to meet Lance at the path to the porch. “She’s letting Hunk and me rent it out since it’s so close to the university.” 

The toys in the backyard made more sense now. If Lance’s grandmother owns the house, then his family must still come over. Keith wondered if Lance had younger siblings, and if so, how many.

“Shall we go inside?” Lance asked and nodded toward the door. Keith nodded back and Lance led him up the path and up the wooden steps. He opened the door and a burst of warmth hit Keith, melting away the ice in his bones. 

Keith looked around the entryway as Lance closed the door behind them. Lance took off his jacket and motioned at a coat rack for Keith to do the same. As he slipped off his red leather jacket, he took in the homely sight. The wooden floors, the rickety stairs leading up, the brick fireplace in the adjacent living room. The house was fully furnished with antique furniture mixed with more modern, college-kid furniture. They must have added their own touch to the things his abuela had left them. He saw a grandfather clock in the corner of the living room, the pendulum swinging with a quiet tick-tick-tock, and next to it a small bookcase filled with old CDs, video games, and textbooks. Almost every flat surface was covered in notebooks, pens, paper plates, and soda cans. 

_Yep_ , Keith thought. _Definitely student living_. 

He followed Lance through to the kitchen, where he was met with smells of cheese, bread, butter, chocolate, and a mixture of everything Keith could think of. It smelled heavenly. The counter tops were covered in foods. He saw three different pizzas, a plate of chocolate chip cookies, and a pie. There were bags of chips and bottles of soda, too. _How much food do they think three people can eat?_ Keith thought. 

Lance saw Keith’s mouth hanging open in wonder and laughed. “Hunk likes to cook when he’s excited,” he said. Right on cue, the timer on the oven began to beep long, shrill notes, startling Keith out of his wonder. Large, thumping footsteps followed immediately after. They came from upstairs, the ceiling above Keith’s head creaking and groaning with each step, and as Keith followed the sound toward the second staircase that led into the kitchen, he noticed the wooden steps creaking a bit more harshly. _This is a really old house_ , he thought. 

Hunk emerged from around the mid-landing banister, his bare feet plopping down as he hurried to get to the oven. Over his yellow sweater, he wore a black apron that read _Kiss the A-chef-ual_ with a chef’s hat above the letters and a spatula underneath. His khaki cargo pants, however, were covered in flour and pizza sauce. He looked like he had a fight with a mixer and lost.

“Hey there, Keith. Howzit?” he said, out of breath as he slipped on an oven mitt and opened the oven door. The heat burst out and blew threw Hunk’s disheveled hair. Keith felt a tingle of the warmth from halfway across the kitchen, but he imagined the more intense feeling Hunk got straight to his face. He watched as Hunk pulled out two trays of cupcakes, perfectly rounded at the top and glistening with the moisture from the oven. They were marbled cupcakes, the base flavor vanilla with chocolate swirls dancing across the surface and into the cake. Keith was amazed at Hunk’s cooking skill and just watched him set the trays down and turn the oven off.

“Earth to Keith,” he heard Lance say as a hand waved in front of his face. He turned to a smiling Lance and blinked a few times. Then he got lost in the crinkle of Lance’s eyes as he smiled and… _Damn it, Keith_ , he thought. 

“Y-yeah, sorry,” he stammered, getting his wits back in order. “Hey, Hunk. All of this looks…great.” He said it with a light laugh, because he felt light in this kitchen with Lance and Hunk, who prepared for a banquet despite the lack of guests. He had never seen anything like it from anywhere except maybe a bakery or a restaurant. 

“Thanks, man,” Hunk said with a bright, albeit almost exhausted, smile. “I got a late start, so I’m still trying to finish up. And _someone_ ,” he aimed a pointed look at Lance, “took too long to decide between chocolate and vanilla, so I’m even more behind.” 

Keith glanced back at Lance, who shrugged and said, “ _Porque no los dos?_ ” The way Lance shrugged, the way his eyes shone shyness, the way his sly smile contradicted that shyness... Keith found himself once again staring at this boy and wondering how many hearts he's stolen just by flashing that look. Innocent, but so, so not.

"Okay, big guy," Lance started again, "we're going to go set up while you do your thing in here." He gently placed a hand on Keith's shoulder to guide him toward the staircase. Keith flinched a little at the touch, though he tried to hide it. He hoped that Lance didn't notice. "Is Shay still joining us?"

"Yeah, she's running a little late," he said almost absently as he cradled a metal mixing bowl and stirred some chocolate icing. "Although, she'll technically be on time since we're all set back." He stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he set the bowl down and began scooping large globs of icing into a plastic bag with a silver tip. Once it was full, he twisted the end, held it steady, and, with his other hand, began to squeeze out the icing on a cupcake.

Keith looked back for a few more seconds as Lance led him out, his hand still lightly on his shoulder. He wanted to focus on Lance's reassuring touch, but at the same time he wanted Lance to stop touching him. It felt warm, but it also burned. Instead he tried to focus on where they were headed. 

There was a door next to the kitchen stairs. It looked like a closet, or a pantry, but as Lance opened it, Keith saw that it was another set of stairs leading down. Lance flipped a switch on the wall next to the door and lit the way down, showing the worn carpeted steps and the dirty walls in the dim light. Keith thought he saw handprints on the wall, stained in dirt and mud. He heard the wood underneath the carpet creak with every step and tried to count how many stairs there were. One, two, three, four... 

They reached the bottom and Keith was surprised at the space of the basement considering how small the house appeared from the outside. The walls were the same dirt-stained white walls with wooden paneling on the bottom halves. The carpet was fuzzy and covered in spots of multiple colors—reds and blues and greens--some spots larger than others, some spots spread further apart than others. On the wall farthest from Keith, he could see paintings nailed to it, crayon drawings on the wall itself, and photos hanging from a long string—each one attached with a clothespin. 

Lance went to the TV on the wall to the left of Keith, but Keith wandered over to the colored wall. As he got closer he could also see horizontal lines beginning from the floor and rising higher and higher. There were names and measurements next to each line, along with the dates on which they were recorded. Keith read the names: Vanessa, Max, Carmen, Carlos, Lance, Victor. His eyes followed the names upward until he stopped at the most recent date next to Lance’s name, the highest of all of them, followed closely by Carlos. 

Keith’s hand stretched out to trace the pen marks and graze the etches in the wood marking the heights. This was Lance’s family, his past preserved on this wall. His history was here, marking his milestones in a way that Keith could only dream of having. He thought about how Lance might look at this wall and remember moments, events, feelings as he almost literally grew up on the plaster. It sent a pang through his core, settling in his stomach. It hurt for a few moments as he kept his hand on the wall, rubbing his thumb across the carving of one of Carlos’s points. 

_So this is what his family looks like…_ he thought. 

Lance appeared at his shoulder, snapping Keith out of his wonder. “Why are you feeling up my wall?” he asked with a smirk. 

Keith subtly scooted away after shyly lowering his hand. He hadn’t realized he had been standing there long enough for Lance to notice. “I was feeling for a secret exit, just in case,” he said. 

Lance’s smirk shifted into a pout, his hand clutching his chest. Keith was both impressed with himself at wiping that smirk off Lance’s face—that adorable smirk—but also disappointed that his smirk—his adorable smirk—was replaced by that even more adorable pout. _Not now gay thoughts,_ he screamed internally, his face growing warm. 

“You wound me, Keith,” Lance said. “I can’t believe you would think me so naive to put my secret exit in plain sight like that.” And suddenly his smirk was back. Keith can’t win. “No, you’re trapped here. You’re not leaving until I kick your ass at Guitar Hero.” He crossed his arms and gave Keith a determined look. “What are looking at a bunch of scratches for anyway?”

“Oh,” Keith stammered, looking back at the wall. “I was just—I, uh… I’ve never seen anything like this before.” He bowed his head a little, looking down at his feet. “Are these all of your siblings?”

Looking at the wall himself, Lance pointed at the lowest name—Vanessa—and said, “That’s my niece. My nephew Max,” he moved his hand upward, “is there. He’s a year older. Five and six.” His face was calm and reminiscent as he continued. “That’s Carlos, Carmen, and Victor. They’re all older than me, but the joke’s on them because I’m taller and better looking.” He crossed his arms again, but he still appeared thoughtful, almost sad. 

“You have a pretty big family,” Keith said quietly. 

“It’s not that big,” Lance sighed in reply. “Doesn’t seem like it, anyway.”

“It’s big to me,” Keith muttered. 

“Hm?” Lance asked, cocking his head toward him. 

Keith hadn’t meant to say anything out loud. But compared to his own past, Lance’s family was huge. He wished he could just shrug it off like Lance did, but that pang in his gut came back when Lance did it. “Oh uh, I said it’s pretty cute. The wall, I mean.” He ran his hand through his hair and massaged his scalp as he did it, trying to calm himself and focus on the reason he was in Lance’s basement in the first place. “So… Guitar Hero, huh?”

Lance’s eyes lit up once again, a spark reigniting his lively personality. He jogged back over to the stairs, yelled for Hunk— “Hunk! Quit mackin’ on Shay’s face and get down here with all the food!”—and returned to the TV to pick up a controller. Keith followed him over to the worn out leather couch in front of the TV and sat down. Rather, sank down. His knees were almost to his chest the way he was sitting on the springless cushions. Lance, being taller, was in even more of an acrobatic pose. He shifted to sit cross-legged and brought up the game’s menu screen. 

Heavy footsteps thumped down the stairs, followed by softer thumps. It sounded like more than four feet, and Keith realized why when the basement door opened and Hunk walked in with Shay and another girl who had long silver hair…and _Pidge?_

He stared wide-eyed as they all walked over to a table, their arms laden with dishes of the food Hunk had prepared, and arranged it all. Pidge’s face was mostly turned away from Keith, but he could still see her face wrinkled in a shit-eating grin and knew that she was holding back a fit of laughter. She caught Keith off guard… _She planned this._

“We invited a few more losers—I mean friends,” Lance said. “Friends who will lose.” He got up and walked to the silver-haired girl, grabbed her wrist and bowed, kissing her hand. “M’lady.” 

She cringed and drew back her hand with a faux exasperated expression. “Ugh, as if,” she scoffed in a slight British accent. Her soft smile landed on Keith and she stepped over, extending the hand Lance hadn’t kissed. “I’m Allura. Nice to meet you.”

He stood, too, shook her hand, and found her grip firmer than he expected. Her dark brown skin contrasted with his pale skin, and her eyes were kindling for a burning fire. He could immediately tell that Allura was one hell of a woman—strong and determined. Keith already felt comfortable around her, the light in her eyes calming him and her handshake settling his nerves. They released their grip and she stepped back, brushing back her braided hair. 

“Allura’s my boss at the coffee shop,” Lance said over his shoulder as he piled food onto a plate. “Well, she’s more of an equal adviser—“ 

“No,” she interjected. “I just let him think he can slack off sometimes. It keeps morale up.” She winked at Keith and turned to Pidge. “I understand you two know each other already?” 

Keith tried to stutter out some excuse for why he didn’t know Pidge was coming, but he failed. His mouth opened and closed, sound failing to come out. Pidge jumped in right before it got too awkward of a pause.

“We grew up together,” she said. “I sleep on his couch sometimes.” 

“We were lab partners in our robotics class this semester,” Hunk said through a mouthful of pizza, a glob of cheese nearly hanging on the corner of his mouth. “Small world, huh?”

“Yeah,” Keith said, confused and slightly irritated. Pidge couldn’t hide the way her mouth pulled upward, lopsided and dimpled. 

She diverted his attention by sliding over to the girl next to her, who was about three heads taller than Pidge. “Have you met Shay, Keith?”

Shay looked like an athlete. Her shorts showed off legs that could probably leap over canyons, and through her purple hoodie, he could tell that her arms could throw him into the sun. He wouldn’t even argue if they wanted to. She had a soft round face, with eyes that drooped in perpetual kindness. She held herself with both confidence and shyness, arms wrapped around herself and one foot crossed behind the other. He thought she looked a bit familiar—

“You work at the library, don’t you?” she asked, her high voice like wind chimes. She enunciated every word, but still spoke softly. “With Pidge?”

Lance, Hunk, and Allura had started filling up plates and finding their seats, so Keith walked closer to Shay. Holding out his hand, he said, “Yeah. I think I remember you.” They shook hands, and he continued with a smile. “Nice to see the caffeine crash didn’t hit too hard.”

She bobbed her head in a short laugh. “I think I’m immune now. But don’t tell Hunk that; he likes to think he’s solely responsible.” She nudged Pidge with her elbow. “Pidge sometimes distracts him so I can get more coffee.”  
He raised his eyebrow and glanced at Pidge. Of course she would be friends with Shay, too, if she knew Hunk. And if she knew Hunk, she must’ve heard of Lance. So why would she keep this all a secret after his days of talking about them to her?

“Hey, Keith!” He turned his head just in time to catch a plastic guitar flying at his head, the keys on the neck clicking in his grip. Lance’s face had all the determination in the world when he said, “Might wanna play on easy. Guitar is pretty difficult.”

Shay sighed and said a light “good luck” before going over to sit with Hunk. Pidge chortled and followed, leaving the conversation Keith wanted to have for a later time. Before leaving his apartment, Pidge had said, “Rule number one, Keith, is that you’ve gotta have fun. So none of that mopey stuff you do; only smoldering stuff.” As annoyed as he was that she lied to him, she was right. For right now, he would follow her advice.

He walked back to his spot next to Lance, who was pressing the buttons on his guitar and navigating the menu screen. Hunk was sitting on a stool in front of the drums, four small circular pads—red, blue, green, and yellow. Shay stood behind him, her arms looped over his shoulders. Allura and Pidge brought over two bean bags and sat in front of the couch. Allura had the microphone while Pidge opted to watch. 

While Lance loaded the song, Keith familiarized himself with the controls. The four buttons on the neck had two sides, an up and down arrow, and the spot where the bridge would be was a long switch that acted as the strum of the guitar. His fingers weren’t used to moving so awkwardly. His pinky kept slipping off the last button and twitching all the while. He looked over and saw how Lance’s fingers were positioned. Lance’s were long and nimble, easily reaching each button. Keith wondered if Lance had experience playing a real guitar. 

“Everyone ready to lose?” Lance announced. 

Allura laughed and sat up straight, clearing her throat, ready to sing. Hunk flexed his fingers. Keith sat up awkwardly, trying to mimic Lance’s fingerings. Lance pressed play and the song faded in. Keith’s screen was in the lower right corner, and his and Lance’s notes came in first with a long riff. 

Lance hit it straight away, but the sound of scratching ruined it as Keith hit the soundboard switch a second too late. The song wouldn’t stop, though, so he had to adjust quickly. Allura came in with the first few words and sounded strong and beautiful, each note hitting just the right pitch and lining up with the game’s measurement almost perfectly. Hunk’s foot tapped on the floor pedal, and pretty soon he was beating each pad quickly and in time. 

Keith quickly felt for the rhythm, got the timing down, and let his reflexes take over. He may not have known a lot about music and instruments, but he was good at picking up on muscle memory. Once he got the hang of seeing which notes were on the way, his fingers moved on their own, and suddenly he was playing near perfect notes.

Lance’s smirk started to fall as he noticed Keith’s sudden improvement, and with it, his notes faltered ever so slightly. Keith hardly noticed, though. He had gotten into a groove. But Lance sat up straighter, leaning forward and pressing his keys more aggressively. Pretty soon they were both neck and neck, their scores bouncing back and forth, and their elbows lightly jabbing at the other in an attempt to throw each other off their game. Keith couldn’t even hear Allura toward the end of the song, or Hunk on his drums. He was entirely immersed in his part of the music, the clicking of his keys and the brush of Lance’s skin on his own. 

He was smiling, and it felt really, really good. 

The song ended with a long vibrato from Allura and a hard “symbol crash” from Hunk. They waited for their final scores, and once the total screen came up, Lance let out a belt that could have given Allura a run for her money. 

“I _lost?_ ” he screamed, letting his arms drop dramatically to his side. Everyone burst into laughter while he gaped at the screen, simmering in the way his smack talk had backfired. Keith looked at the guitar resting in his lap, smiling at how light the whole mood was. 

“Next song,” Lance said abruptly. “A harder one this time.”

And they kept playing. Allura kept the microphone, but after a few turns, Pidge took over the drums and Hunk sat with Shay, who had taken Lance’s guitar after Keith’s score kept surpassing his own. They laughed when Allura intentionally burped in the middle of one song, then made it a running joke to see who could play the worst game. The screeching and booing from the virtual audience was no match for the hard laughs that came from that basement. Keith had to wipe tears from his eyes, and when he looked over at Lance, at the way his smile spread across his face and wrinkled his eyes, he felt warmth flood his cheeks. 

_Rule number two,_ he thought, his smile dwindling a bit, _just don’t get attached to something you can lose._ The little voice in his head always told him to slow down, don’t start liking things before he even knew if they would stick around. These weren’t his friends, but maybe… He stopped thinking the moment Lance nudged his shoulder. He looked at Keith expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” he asked. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Lance said, smiling. 

Keith looked past lance at Hunk, who let out a yawn, and checked the time. It was past midnight. Pidge reached back and pinched his leg, then stood and said, “I’d better be getting home.”

He looked at Pidge, his eyebrows scrunched, until her eyes hardened. Oh, he thought, disappointed. He looked at Lance and rubbed his eye for extra effect. “I should go, too. Gotta make sure Pidge gets back safely.”

The look on Lance’s face made him instantly regret saying anything. It didn’t fall or anything, but his eyes softened and his mouth curved downward in a slight frown. His happy features tried to hide something else. “Okay, yeah. It is getting kind of late, isn’t it?” He stood and stretched his whole body, reaching toward the ceiling. “I’ll walk you out…?”

Keith nodded, and the three of them walked toward the stairs, saying their goodbyes to Hunk, Shay, and Allura on the way. Everyone was riding what was left of the laughter high, but the weariness was noticeable. No one spoke on the way upstairs, and it wasn’t until they had put on their jackets and walked down the sidewalk that Lance said, “Thanks for coming,” with a shy shrug. 

“I had fun,” Keith said. “I didn’t know you were so bad at Guitar Hero.” Lance stiffened and let his eyes roll so hard, they almost seemed to get stuck in reverse. 

“I _let_ you win, you know,” he said, exasperated. “I’m nothing if not polite to my guests.”

“Sure, sure,” Keith laughed. He stared at Lance until he glanced back with a sly smile. After a minute, he looked downward, and rocked on his heels. He didn’t know what to do now, and he didn’t know what new friends did. Did they hug, or did they shake hands, or did they fist bump or what? Lance looked about to say something, but just then Pidge cleared her throat.

“I’m getting hypothermia and secondhand embarrassment, so if you don’t mind—“

“Anyway,” Lance said, “this was a lot of fun.” He gave Keith a smile that would keep him warm for the whole ride home, and turned to walk back inside. When Keith turned toward his bike, Pidge had already put on his helmet and was tapping her foot, arms crossed. 

“Don’t look so smug,” he told her, his voice flat and as icy as the air around them.

“This is how to be a heartbreaker, Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe one day i'll be able to write long chapters... but until then ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
